The Domino Effect
by Sam Mellor
Summary: Bernard meets the one customer he was never expecting...


**The Domino Effect**

Rated G.

**Black Books and The West Wing are the property of Dylan Moran and Aaron Sorkin respectively. Apologies to Dylan Moran, Bill Bailey, Martin Sheen and Dulé Hill.**

"Come on, Bernard, you need to make a move," Manny insisted.

"I don't understand it. What's the point?" grumbled Bernard, throwing his pieces down.

"Look it's very simple," said Manny, picking the pieces up and handing them back to Bernard. "I place a domino, and then you've got to place one that matches the dots next to it."

"Why?"

"So you can win the game."

"What do I get if you win? A pony?"

"No." Manny took a deep breath. "But I'll buy you a bottle of wine if you win."

Bernard's eyes lit up. "A big bottle?"

Manny nodded.

"Ok, then, let's play. Come on, come on!" Bernard slapped a piece down.

"No, Bernard, that's a six. You need to place a piece with the same number of dots as mine."

"Why, what piece did you place?"

Manny checked the board, "A one."

He chuckled. "You know, someone was telling me, they thought dominos was meant to demonstrate a war. You know, it takes six soldiers to fight six soldiers, five people to fight five."

"So all these little dots are soldiers marching out to war?" said Bernard, picking up a domino and looking at it, a confused expression on his face.

"Yes, I suppose so." Manny placed a domino.

He paused.

"Bernard, you need to make a move."

"I can't," said Bernard, without looking up from his pieces.

"Why not?"

"I'm waiting for the revolution."

Manny stared at Bernard, as if trying to comprehend the possibility that Bernard was in any way serious, but his thoughts were interrupted when the door jangled. Bernard looked up, the revolution forgotten.

"Scram," he muttered to Manny.

"It's just a customer."

"Exactly! They're like children. Give them any attention, and they're all over you! Like a flock of flocking children!"

"But couldn't I—" Manny began.

"Manny, the meringues are burning!" screamed Bernard at the top of his lungs.

Manny yelped, leapt up, and ran into the kitchen.

"At last," sighed Bernard and leant back in his chair.

His eyes looked up, and he saw the waist of a man in a suit directly in front of him. He leant back some more, and his eyes climbed upwards towards the chest and the shoulders. Bernard continued to lean back, until he was a low down as his desk, and his eyes met the eyes of the man in front of the desk, or would have in the man's sunglasses hadn't been in the way.

Bernard stared at him.

"Do you want your magic beans back? I took them and bought a bookstore," said Bernard, but not too loudly, as the man was _very_ tall.

He stared at Bernard, then moved into the far corner of the shop, looking very much like he intended to stay there for a good long while. The door jangled and a second man stepped in, even taller than the first. He looked around, spoke to his wrist, then stood next to the door. The door jangled again and a third man, tallest of all, stepped in beside the second.

"It's clear," he said, and a short heavily built man with greying hair stepped into the shop. Bernard considered him a let down after the first three.

"What do you want, anti-climactical man?" he demanded.

"Good afternoon" the man replied.

He had a sort of regal air about him, Bernard noticed, but if anything that made him less inclined to return the greeting.

"This is a lovely shop."

Bernard gave him a very bemused expression.

The man paused, slightly taken aback, then continued. "I was just passing by when I saw your shop, and like yourself I am a great lover of books, so I got the motorcade to stop and—"

"Books? I don't love books," interrupted Bernard. The man was about to reply, but Bernard continued right on without stopping. "They hurt you! You love them and look after them and then they leave you for someone else with three pounds fifty more than you. They tear your heart out and give it a paper cut."

"You run a bookshop," the other man pointed out.

"Exactly. If I liked books I wouldn't keep trying to get rid of them!" said Bernard, beginning to raise his voice.

"I don't appreciate your tone," Said the man, beginning to sound a little annoyed.

"Sorry, I'm tone deaf," muttered Bernard.

"Do you even know who I am?" asked the man, his anger growing.

"No, but can I have your autograph? It's not for me, it's for my cat."

The other man stared down at him. "I'm the President of the United States."

The President extended his hand.

"And I'm the Queen of Sweden!" Bernard yelled, leaping from his chair. "I deserve to be treated with respect!"

Manny threw back the curtain and strode back into the shop.

"I wasn't cooking any meringues. You knew that, didn't you, Bernard? You got me all bothered."

"Well, cook some meringues, and then burn them!"

"When I investigated the oven I found a very old onion, and a slightly older mouse." Manny told him. "I'm not sure which was which."

"Manny, have you met our guest?" asked Bernard, waving his arm towards the President. "He's the President of the United States."

Manny's mouth opened in shock.

"Oh! Oh, oh, oh! It is an _honour_ to make your acquaintance, your majestyness," He said, bowing low enough to touch his toes. "What can I, a humble person, do for you today? Would you like some coffee, or tea, or some meringues?"

"You can sweep the street, it's a disgrace," Bernard told him.

"Oh! So sorry. Our streets are not worthy for you, sir! Allow me to clean it for you right away!"

Manny reached under the desk, and managed to pick up a broom, a bucket, a mop and a small dust buster all with only two hands, and capered out of the shop, only pausing to glance fearfully at the two Secret Service agents by the door.

The President looked at Bernard, expressionless.

"You're not very nice to him, are you?"

Bernard stared at the President. "Why, how do you treat _your_ scum?

He picked up the dominos and began to line them up on the desk.

"Where I come from we treat people with respect."

"Great! Go back there," said Bernard, not looking up from the domino chain, which was getting longer.

The President watched, astonished, as Bernard lined up the dominos across his desk. Finally Bernard stood up and gestured to the President.

"Put your finger here. Come on! Come on!"

The President slowly reached out, unsure of what to expect, and knocked over the first domino. The dominos fell, causing a chain reaction, which flowed across Bernard's desk. The last domino hit his desk bell, which chimed.

"Thank you!" Bernard called brightly and he picked up the newspaper.

The President stared at him in disbelief. "Look, I just wanted to know if you had any first editions."

"Oh, we might," said Bernard without looking up from the paper. "Lots of books in here, in case you haven't noticed. Could have almost anything."

"Well, can you tell me what you specialise in?"

"No, I'm deeply busy. I need to find another word for 'Scram' Two words actually. Four and three. First letter is a P. And then an I…"

"Look," said the President, getting exasperated. "How hard can it be to tell me if you—"

"Mr President, the meringues are burning!"

They heard Manny yell 'oh, no!' from outside. He burst though the door hurried towards the kitchen.

"Sorry, sir. Sorry!" he yelled as he ran past the President.

The President was about to open his mouth, but the door opened again and a young back man walked into the shop and stood politely behind him.

"I'm sorry Mr President, but CJ asked me to tell you we're late for the luncheon with the Prime Minister."

The President stared at Bernard a moment longer, then turned and walked out of the shop, shaking his head. The Secret Service agents followed, shutting the door.

Bernard came down the stairs into the kitchen, yawning.

"Good morning, Bernard!" said Manny cheerfully.

He took a tray from the oven. "Meringue?"

Bernard took a meringue from the tray, opened his mouth wide, then said, "No," and threw the meringue over his shoulder, where it crumbled against the wall. He sat down, grabbed the paper from the table and started reading.

"Look at this!" he yelled over the paper. "'President visits Prime Minister to form lasting trade pact.' Why don't they print something important for once?"

Manny leaned over and looked at the paper.

"Oh, look, there's a picture of him. Just like he looked yesterday."

"Yesterday?" asked Bernard. "Oh yes, when that man came into the shop pretending to be—" Bernard stopped.

He stared at the photo in the paper.

He stared at Manny.

"You mean he actually _was_ the President?"

"Of course he was," said Manny. "I thought you knew."

Bernard leapt up from the table. "But I was a complete bastard to him! I wouldn't have said those things if I'd known he was the President!"

"What would you have said different?" asked Manny.

Bernard thought. "Well, I would have _smiled_!" he almost moaned.

"Calm down, Bernard. It's not like the Secret Service are about to burst in here and arrest you," Manny chuckled.

A very loud knocking erupted from the store. Bernard and Manny screamed and leapt into each others arms. They crept together slowly into the shop, and opened the front door. A young man in jeans and a t-shirt stood outside the door.

"Yeah, hi," said the man. "Do you sell comic books?"

Bernard and Manny sighed. Then they noticed they were still in each other's arms. Hurriedly they split apart.

"Thank goodness," said Bernard, "It's only a customer."

He shut the door in the customer's face, and sat down at his desk with a relieved sigh.

"I need a drink, Manny, after that fright. And a meringue. Why don't you ever cook meringues?"

Manny scowled and marched into the kitchen. Bernard picked up the dominos and started trying to line them up again. They fell over after three pieces and, in frustration, he swept them off the desk, sending them flying.

"Silly. Of course the Secret Service won't just burst in and—" he was interrupted by the Secret Service bursting in through the door, the window, and anywhere else they could fit.

"Bernard Black, place your hands on your head and remain still!" yelled one of the agents.

Manny came back into the shop, carrying the tray. "Meringue, anyone?" he asked brightly.


End file.
